Erotic Fiction
A co-worker that typically toiled the evening shift with me was suddenly MIA. I asked around but nobody seemed to know just why her schedule had changed. I saw at the grocery store one Saturday afternoon and when I asked where she'd been, she told me she was taking a community college course in the writing of erotic fiction. She wasn't a prude or anything, but it still came as a surprise. "The instructor's really nice", she said, "and I've met some cool people. So far, I have a B but he hasn't graded our last assignment yet." I wished her luck and we parted ways. It wasn't until later that night when I pondered just how one goes about grading erotic fiction. I pictured the professors office, his desk with tissues at the ready. He'd emerge, wiping sweat from his brow, hand you your assignment and somewhat breathlessly say: "Good work."
The Value of Nothing
I was shopping at a secondhand store, browsing old books and videos. I saw an older woman I think I may have went to church with as a boy also browsing. She would hold up videos she liked and announce to no one in particular "Oh, I love this one!" and set it aside. Some of the movies she loved were "Uncle Buck", one of the "Child's Play" movies, a Three Stooges compilation, and a documentary about Arizona. The price on the videos was good, one dollar apiece or six for five dollars, so she could afford to have such eclectic taste. Suddenly the woman exclaimed with great shock and distaste. Apparently, mixed in with the family fare were several pornographic films. She alerted the owner, who apologized profusely. He had no idea that any of the videos were pornographic, and thanked her for pointing it out. As a show of good faith, he offered all the movies she had accrued free of charge and assured her that something would be done about it. Everyone was satisfied. I returned a week or two later and found that, indeed, all of the pornographic movies had been removed. While the bulk of the videos remained one dollar apiece or six for five, the dirty ones were placed in a box to themselves labelled "five dollars each".
Why I Shaved My Beard
Some time ago I shaved my beard. There was much curiosity concerning my motivations for doing so and many inquiries. The truth behind my stylistic change ran much deeper than anyone may have suspected and now, at long last, the story can be told. I was outside on a cloudy afternoon. A pleasant breeze, pleasant thoughts, and nothing to do left me lazy in the most wonderful way. Off in the distance, way up in the sky beyond the clouds appeared a speck. A tiny indeterminate dot. The dot grew larger and larger, the clouds seemed to part, and I heard violins playing "Getting to Know You". Before I knew it I was face to face with an astral being. With God himself. He said "how are you?" and I said "fine" and we just kind of went back and forth like that for a while. You know. Talking. He said "Paul, shave your beard, okay? It looks cool and everything, and you can grow it back later, just... shave your beard." I told Him I would. As is so often the case when one meets a celebrity, I could think of nothing witty to say nor pertinent questions to ask. In all His serenity and wisdom I knew He didn't hold my awkwardness against me and I'll always appreciate that. He said "so long" and drifted backwards while "Getting to Know You" played in reverse. I watched television for a while and shaved just before bedtime. I'm still not sure just what purpose this served and have grown a beard again since, but when this sort of thing happens to you, you just have to go with it. Do you know what I mean?
Dream Sequence
Burt had a fantasy concerning his wife. He wanted to have her and the woman across the street at the same time, all three of them enjoying one another in the most base and carnal ways imaginable. It began simply enough, he would think of it when he had a free moment or two at work or while driving. It was a nice way to pass the time while he was raking leaves or washing dishes. One day Burt found that his desire was no longer casual. The fantasy had become an undeniable urge that needed to be fulfilled. Knowing his wife as well as he did, he knew that no matter how sincere his wish or rational his argument, the concept wouldn't fly. As it turns out, the woman across the street and Burt's wife knew one another and it occurred to Burt that if he spoke to the neighbor first and could get her on board then perhaps persuading his wife could become a possibility. He had a drink to fortify himself and marched across the street where Burt saw, through the picture window of his neighbors house, not only the neighbor, but his neighbors husband and Burt's wife enjoying one another much as Burt had imagined for so many weeks, in full view of the neighborhood. Burt stood for a moment regarding the scene. When it had been a fantasy it had been a most enjoyable thing, but seeing it now, the confusion and hysterical gyrations of three people clumsily trying to find ecstasy, all of them sweating, grunting, and cursing through what looked like a pointless ordeal. Well, it just turned Burt of the whole thing entirely.
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